It is Saturday, and all smiles after a wonderful cabaret. I think this is something wonderful about a lot of ropey people being in the same place and sharing; it is fun. Even if it is also serious and scary sometimes and the scenes you can see are heavy and pretty awesome, it is still fun, there is still laughter and a mutual enjoyment (always to some extent, and perhaps to someones extent more to someone else).
The drop earlier in the evening had made it clear to me that there was a somewhat of an unbalance. The switch in me had flipped towards the desires of being bound. A forthcoming post will discuss the arts of switch-crafts a bit further, but suffice to say, there needs to be a balance between everything. And it was Saturday and I just needed rope on my body, not tied by myself or tying someone else, but tied by someone else. When in that mode, it is strange, because it is almost a desperate feeling. I did not even bring my ropes with me, just to mark that it was not that kind of evening. For those of you who know me well enough, that is somewhat unusual even for me. People around had started tying, and then suddenly running into Tatu. Sometimes, asking for what you want is so god damn difficult, but asking him if he wanted to do some rope now or later felt easy.
We ended up in one of the smaller play-rooms to focus on some floor-work and as I peeled off one layer of clothing after another, it felt like I could not stop feeling, thinking, and everything I always hope to shut up is running amok. There is no control over thoughts, barely over body, the jet-lag is running crazy, suddenly thoughts of someone I must have hurt so much appear, then the pain of not being in control over potential fucked up feelings reminds me again that despite how ever much I want to be in control over my life, I never am and I never will be, because I must feel, I need to feel. Note: this is while we undress, no rope has even taken place yet. I take deep breaths, trying to move into the space of rope and empty minds, ground myself. I’m not sure if he felt the mind running amok, but we sat on the floor, just looking at each other for moment before his hands started to move over me. There was something in the movements that tempted the emotion, tried to lure it out, like small pieces of glue on his fingertips lightly touching scraps of paper. He spoke, perhaps I did as well. But as it happened, when he placed his hand on my belly I cracked. It was like everything in me had nested in there, like a stiff, hard, tired ball of fear, adrenaline, self-doubt, stress and conflicting emotions. And when the nest was pressed upon, moved, all of its content started to bleed, first trickling, then pouring. No rope yet, but I was crying and could not stop crying. He started moving me, started tying, and instead of trying to shut the brain up, I just let everything enter into the system, running amok, a crazy assault of disjointed thoughts and feelings not processed, no point in fighting it, no lock down, no focus, just exist. And Tatu tied, moved with and against me, and it felt like where ever the rope went, it allowed this to happen, because I was there, I had to feel, I had to go through it. His breathing was following the pace of the rope, and the rope made sounds, so safe to hear, so familiar, so grounding. All the time is spent on the ground, maximum focus on the bodies, on the energy, the connection. And everything can just happen, without controlling it. When he is untying, there is a stillness and a peace, mind has accepted the feeling body, allowing it to take charge, and now, the landing becomes a regaining of focus, but a kinder focus, a more grounded version, acknowledging those who are around. We sit, first not talking, then slowly starting to coil all the rope up and chatting about everything and nothing, all of those things that matters, and that which does not. As we, after some time, hug one more time and then part ways to continue experience the wonders of the play-spaces at Shibaricon. As I walked away, the thing that most came into my mind how the the body is not a vessel for the mind, but a primary link to the self and others, or in the words of some smart person who said something like: “We know ourselves and the world through our sensing bodies”.